Flashback
by WishfulWriting
Summary: Jesse is somehow transformed into a child. How will he and Walt deal with it?
1. Chapter 1

So the current seasons of BrBa is really killing me emotionally, so I decided to write something a little lighter... Feedback is immensely appreciated!

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Walt wasn't sure what to expect when he drove over to Jesse's house. The text message had been vague. "_need ur help. can u come over_?" it read. After staring at it for a minute, Walt had hesitantly responded, "_With what_?" and realized how quickly he called into question whether Jesse truly needed help. After all, there had been far from urgent moments that had elicited panicked phone calls and cries from Jesse. Being a text message in itself made the claim of needing help suspicious.

"_Please_," was Jesse's immediate response, which caused Walt to reconsider. Please was not a word he commonly heard from his young friend.

With a sigh he responded, "_OK_."

After all, he couldn't admit to having much more going on that day. It was a staggeringly hot New Mexico day, and with the lab closed for three days on account of the laundromat undergoing its annual pesticide fumigation, there was no cooking. Having also been a particular agitated week with Skyler, Walt had resigned himself to the air conditioning of his condo with a solo marathon of James Bond movies on cable TV. He could certainly momentarily break from that to see what Jesse needed.

Help with what though? he wondered as he drove to the young man's house. Helping Jesse could mean a variety of things, and the consideration of some possibilities made Walt wonder if he should have pressed further or even simply said no rather than agreeing to go see him. The kid was sometimes a magnet for trouble, and handling trouble was usually not one of his strong suits.

When he arrived, he parked in the street and walked up to the house to knock on the door. The heat of the day felt like a heavy weight on his shoulder, and he could feel a trickle of sweat start to form on his brow. He wiped it away and knocked again on the door after a moment passed.

When the knock went unanswered again, Walt grew frustrated. He put his hand on the knob and turned it, finding it unlocked. He slowly opened the door.

"Jesse?" he called out as he let himself in. The TV was on and he looked across the room. The couch was empty, the room still. There was an empty open pizza box sitting on the coffee table and a few beer bottles. He shut the door behind him.

Where the hell was Jesse?

"Jesse?" He walked across the room and briefly went to look in the kitchen, also empty. On his way back to the living room, he suddenly eyed a small child coming down the stairs. He looked to be around six years old and was wearing nothing but an oversized blue t-shirt that hung down to his knees. His legs were bare.

"Mr. White," the child spoke in a small, tentative voice. His hand gripped the banister of the stairs and he looked frightened.

Walt looked the child over with a frown and his eyes drifted up the stairs. He started to approach him. "Where's Jesse? Who are you?" The child stayed in place, hand still gripping to the banister. Walt began to walk up the stairs, but the boy grabbed the edge of his shirt.

"Mr. White," he said again. "It's me."

Walt turned, staring at the small hand clutching at his shirt. He looked at the child once again and suddenly felt a sinking feeling. The blue eyes, the hair, face… Though cherubic and innocent, the features were intensely familiar, and he suddenly started to understand.

"What do you mean, it's you," he began, tone flat. This was impossible. This was some kind of practical joke. Or was this some weird kind of dream? He resisted the urge to pinch himself. It had to be a joke. Jesse had found some child, maybe it was a family-member, who looked like him, and he was playing some kind of joke.

"I don't know what happened," the child began, his voice shaking slightly. Walt realized that despite the higher, childish pitch, it was Jesse's voice. The tone, the way he spoke. It was definitely Jesse's.

If this was a joke, he was going to kill him. This wasn't funny. This was weird. Like a scene out of Twilight Zone. Not to mention it was chemically impossible, so it had to be a trick.

"This is a joke," Walt began. "I don't know what you-"

"It's not a joke," the child pleaded, with a edge that sounded too much like Jesse. "Fuck, Mr. White. I don't know what happened. It's not a joke."

Walt was frozen for a moment. Then he reached down and took the child under the arms, effortlessly lifting him up to be face to face. He studied his babyish features, trying to understand. "This is impossible..." he said slowly.

"Yeah, apparently not." The boy squirmed in his hold, wrinkling his face in discomfort. He pushed his hands out against Walt's chest. "Yo, put me down, Mr. White. Don't pick me up."

Walt planted him back on the floor and shook his head, dumbfounded. He walked back over to the couch and sank into it slowly. "I don't understand… This is…"

"You gotta help, Mr. White," little Jesse followed him to the couch, climbing up on the cushion next to him. His legs dangled above the floor. "I knew you wouldn't believe me if I told you on the phone. What do I do?"

Walt stared at the television for a moment, and then reached for the remote on the coffee table to turn it off. He turned to the kid, feeling a bit dazed. His chest felt tight. "Start from the beginning."

"I don't know what the beginning is," Jesse insisted. He looked like he was going to cry. He rubbed his hands over his face distractedly and then sighed. "Last night I smoked a bowl. I-" He cut himself off when he saw Walt's disapproving frown. "Look, no lectures, man. I'm just putting it out there. I smoked, and it was… I don't know… I did feel kind of weird after… But then I just went to bed."

"And?" Walt persisted. Having a six year discussing 'smoking a bowl' was disturbing but tried to remind himself it was really Jesse in there.

"And I woke up like this!" Jesse exclaimed, voice high and strained. "I woke up and literally fell out of my fucking bed because I didn't know I was only only three feet tall!" He took a deep breath and continued. "And at first I thought maybe I was still high and maybe it was just like a bad trip or something but now it's… it's like in the afternoon and…" His voice wavered. "But, you see me like I see me, right, Mr. White?"

"Yes…" Walt responded slowly. "You're… Well, it's impossible, really. Biologically and chemically impossible, but… Yes."

"So how do I get back?" Jesse insisted. "I don't want to stay like this."

Walter swallowed, trying to get his thoughts straight. With big, imploring blue eyes, Jesse was staring at him in that way he always did when he was actually looking for guidance. When he thought Walt would know the right answer or a solution to a situation. But this was not a typical situation with an evident answer...

"What do we do, Mr. White?" Jesse asked. "Talk to me. Please."

"I…. I don't know…" Walt responded. "Honestly, Jesse… It's… It's just not physically possible."

"But I can get back, right? Like it'll reverse?" Jesse's voice started to waver.

Walt hesitated. How would he know the answer to that? He'd never heard of anything like this. "Of course," he said anyway. That gut instinct to pacify Jesse outweighed his scientific refusal to accept what was in front of him. "Of course it will."

Jesse looked relieved by Walt's response and exhaled. "How long will it take?"

"That I don't know," Walt admitted. For once he felt somewhat helpless and ignorant. "All we can do is wait and see…" He tried to make his tone sound more sure than he felt.

Jesse leaned back against the couch cushion and squeezed his eyes closed. "Wait and see…" he echoed.

Walt studied him. He was so little. So… innocent? He had to admit that Jesse was a pretty cute kid. He tried to determine his age. Jesse was always a bit on on the small side. "How old are you?"

Jesse opened his eyes and glared at Walt with the face of a disgruntled child. "I'm twenty-"

"No," Walt interrupted. "Not your real age. How old do you think you are right now?"

"Mr. White, I don't know. I'm still the same age," Jesse argued.

"Maybe six or so. This is… unbelievable." Walt paused. Despite the appearance, there was no denying that it was somehow really Jesse. Behind the blue eyes, he could see that. So what did they do now? He had to make some kind of plan. He tried to push all the disbelief out of his head. Focus on the current moment.

He reached over and tugged on Jesse's oversized t-shirt. "So considering all of your clothing was already too big for you, I assume you want some new clothes."

Jesse continued to frown, brow furrowed. "Yeah."

"Okay. So that's step one."

"And Mike called me three times today. I haven't answered."

"Then don't answer," Walt responded.

"He's going to get mad. What do we do?"

"Well, hopefully you're back to normal before the lab reopens…" Walt started. "Let me try to get some clothes for you. All of Walt Jr.'s clothes are in the attic. I'm sure I can find something to fit you."

"What if I don't go back to normal?" Jesse asked quietly, voice shaky. "What if I'm stuck like this?"

"I already told you that it will reverse," Walt answered firmly. "We just have to wait for that to happen." He watched child Jesse's lower lip start to tremble. "Jesse, don't get upset."

Jesse sniffled. "I don't know what to do."

"You're fine." Walt reached over to squeeze the small leg of his friend. "You'll see. You'll be back to normal soon." He stood up from the couch and took a deep breath. He didn't know why the lies came so easily. He had no idea what was going to happen. But he knew Jesse would lose it if he showed any indication of his own worry. "I'll be back soon. I…" He hesitated for a moment. Jesse was still sniffling. "Can I leave you alone? I wouldn't leave a six year old alone."

"I'm an adult, Mr. White," Jesse snapped, voice rising in irritation. He wiped at his eyes.

Walt eyed the child on the couch with a sigh. "Fine. Just… Don't do anything. Don't go anywhere. If something changes in the meantime, call me."

Jesse crossed his arms over his chest. He sniffed again. "How long will you be gone?"

"Not long," Walt assured. With that he headed towards the door, cursing silently in his head.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Walt returned to Jesse's house forty-five minutes later with a garbage bag of assorted clothes from his attic and a bag from Walmart. Thankfully, the house had been empty since Skyler was at the car wash. He didn't know how he would have explained a sudden need to dig up their son's clothes from ten years ago. On the chance that she had been there, he did come up with some mentally prepared quick excuses, like donating the clothes to charity, but knew any explanation he could come up with would be met with suspicion and scrutiny.

While he was gone, he hoped that he would get a relieved call from Jesse or a text message saying that everything was back to normal. He didn't know how long this seemingly improbable situation could last, but he earnestly hoped that it was very temporary.

Jesse at twenty-five was a handful. Jesse at six years old? He didn't even want to consider the possibilities.

Why was there always trouble when it came to Jesse?

Against his hope but true to his expectation, the call that things were back to normal never came, and he found himself back at Jesse's house.

This time, he didn't bother knocking and instead let himself in through the front door. He turned to view the room as he pushed the door shut behind him and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the scene in front of him.

Mike.

Walt's hands tightly clenched down on the two bags he carried, and he set his jaw, preparing himself for confrontation. What the hell was Mike doing here? Jesse had mentioned him calling, but…

The older man rose from the couch slowly, smoothing down the front of his gray button down shirt. His expression was typically stoic. "Walter," he spoke slowly, voice deep and monotone. "We have a problem."

Walt took a few steps forward into the room until he could see child Jesse still sitting on the couch. His head was bowed, eyes cast downward. "Jesse," he began.

Jesse looked up at his name, turning his head to view him. His brow was furrowed, creased in worry. At the same time the look in his eyes, slightly red-rimmed, was irritation.

"Are you okay?" Walt asked.

"Okay?" Jesse echoed incredulously. The higher voice was laced with Jesse's typical flippant tone. He fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch. "No, I'm not okay. I'm still a fucking midget."

"He's fine," Mike responded evenly, sending Jesse a warning look. "For a child with the mind of a twenty year old junkie that is." Jesse lowered his gaze again to his lap. Mike then met Walt's eye. "Now what the hell is going on?"

"I'm still twenty-five," Jesse mumbled.

"Kid, whatever age you're supposed to be, you damn well aren't that age right now, so shut your trap," Mike responded stiffly. "Walter. What is going on?"

"How the hell do you think I know? And what are you doing here anyway, Mike?" Walt placed his bags on the ground.

Mike sighed. "The kid knows the consequences of not answering my calls."

"You wouldn't've believe me," Jesse mumbled under his breath.

Mike turned to view him with a cautioning gaze. "Anyway. When I naturally stopped by, needless to say, I did not expect to find this."

Walt tried to gauge the man's reaction. As usual Mike's face was etched in stone, as though designed for life's poker game. "And for some reason you think I expected this?" Walter responded. He found himself irritated at Mike's presence. Already things were difficult to deal with without involving a third party. Ideally, the less people that knew about it, the better.

"Well, the kid here mentioned that you told him this … situation … would reverse. Now, how the hell would you know that if you had nothing to do with it?"

I don't know that, Walt wanted to respond in exasperation, but he stopped himself. Jesse was again looking at him intently with those blue eyes, and he wanted to avoid retracting any of the statements he'd made to calm him down earlier. The last thing they needed was anyone overreacting. What was the appropriate reaction anyway?

"It has to reverse," Walt responded assuredly instead. He waved his arm towards Jesse. "This is not Jesse. Well, it is Jesse, of course, but-"

"Of course?" Mike objected. "Listen, Walter. I don't know what this is. Is it really Jesse?"

"Yes, it's Jesse!" Jesse exclaimed in exasperation.

Walt and Mike both regarded Jesse briefly before turning back to each other.

I don't know what this is either, Walt thought to himself. "It's obviously Jesse," he said stiffly. "Moving past that, we can't say why or how this happened… But it happened."

"I don't know what kind of experiments you guys have going on in that lab of yours…" Mike's voice became slightly suspicious.

Lab of mine? Walt thought bitterly. Yeah, right. Like anything in that lab would be considered his property. Gus had gone above and beyond to ensure the upper hand in their working relationship. He had surveillance, he had checks in the process, measurements. If any materials were amiss, someone would know.

"This has nothing to do with the lab," Walt replied with a edge to his tone.

"Nothing? Then how the hell is this possible?"

It's not possible, Walt thought wryly.

"Look, your conversation is interesting and all," Jesse began, rubbing his hands over his face impatiently, "but can we skip the arguing and bullshit and do something about this already?"

"Do something like what, Kid?" Mike demanded, turning to face him. "You wanna tell me where the magic wand is that transformed you?"

"What if we, like, google it or something?" Jesse suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"Google? Sure. Google it." Mike let out an exasperated breath and turned back to Walt. "So, no comments, Walter?"

"I'm not sure what you want me to say," Walt responded. "If you think I know what caused this or that I expected this, then you're grossly misinformed. I was just as surprised as you. Jesse called me, and here I am. There is no chemical or biological explanation for this."

"And this isn't a joke."

"Trust me. I wish it were a joke. I wish I had some technical explanation for how this was possible. But I don't."

Mike sighed and looked over at Jesse once again. "Well, whatever this is, I think we can agree that it's mutually beneficial to us if our boss doesn't find out about it. He doesn't need any more reasons not to trust the two of you."

"The lab is closed until Wednesday."

Mike raised his eyebrows at Walt. "And after Wednesday?"

"Hopefully this will reverse by Wednesday."

"Hopefully?" Jesse echoed incredulously. "What do you mean hopefully, Mr. White? You said this would reverse soon."

"It will, Jesse," Walt appeased, trying to sound confident. "It will reverse. Probably within the next twenty-four hours, but-"

"Within the next twenty-hour hours?" Mike repeated skeptically. "And just how do you know that? You just admitted you have no explanation for this. "

Shut up, Mike, he wanted to hiss. Jesse was already starting to look apprehensive again, and Walt simply stuck with his story. "It will reverse soon," he answered. "If we're just patient, this will be over before we know it."

"Patient," Mike repeated. "Dealing with the two of you requires superhuman patience..."

Walt was about to respond but abruptly cut himself off as he caught movement from Jesse out of the corner of his eye. He turned to view Jesse in time to see him with one of the beer bottles from the coffee table in his hand. "Jesse!" he snapped.

Jesse took a long swig of the probably warm beer and swallowed, making a face. "What?"

Exasperated, Walt walked over and physically removed the bottle from Jesse's hand. "Stop it."

"Hey!" Jesse objected. As he reached back up for the glass bottle, Walt slapped his hand away sharply. "Ow!" Jesse cried, cradling his arm to his chest. "Yo- What gives, Mr. White?" He scowled and leaned back into the couch away from him.

"No drinking. No drugs." Walt spoke stiffly. "Not while you're like this. No smoking either."

"Are you insane?" Jesse glared at him. "I'm-"

"Enough. Those are the rules, Jesse," Walt interrupted. He turned to Mike, who appeared amused, and took a few steps back towards him. "Anything else, Mike? Because if you don't mind-"

"So that's it?" Mike shook his head. "What are you implying the next steps are, Walter? Just twiddle our thumbs?"

Walt tried to keep his tone patient. "There are no next steps other than waiting. Let's see what the next twenty-four hours brings. Jesse will stay with me until-"

"Wait, what?" Jesse demanded. "Fuck that, Mr. White. I'm not-"

"You're staying with me." Walter could feel his patience starting to wear thin. Between Mike's patronizing accusations and Jesse's seemingly heightened insolence, not to mention the current scientifically impossible situation itself, he felt his blood pressure continue to rise. In every other seemingly 'impossible' situation in the past, he was able to rationalize or improvise a solution. This time the best he could come up with is wait and see.

"I am not." Jesse's voice was stubborn and Walt noticed with annoyance that he was pouting.

"Unless you have any other suggestions?" Walt continued, turning his attention back to Mike, whose expression remained sour. "Because if you do, then by all means, enlighten us."

"All I know," Mike replied, "is that the boss better not find out. That's all I've gotta say. Did you call Saul?"

"No," Walt admitted. "Not yet." What would Saul be able to offer? He found it hard to believe that Saul could offer more than what his knowledge of science had to offer.

"Might as well," Mike said with a sigh. "That bastard's had a lot of whackjobs come through his shop. You never know."

Walt resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

"You mean he might be able to fix this?" Jesse asked with a hopeful twinge to this voice.

"Yes, Jesse," Walt answered sarcastically. "Better call Saul. For bail bonds, legal representation, and time travel."

"Hey, fuck you, Mr. White," Jesse snapped. His made a face. "You don't have to be such a dick, you bitch."

Walt was surprised to hear Mike chuckling beside him and turned to see that the man had an amused smirk on his face.

When he caught Walt's glance, Mike shrugged. "It's kind of entertaining," he admitted. "Hearing that kind of garbage come out of… him." He gestured at Jesse.

The comment seemed to incite Jesse even more. "Oh yeah?" he retorted, sliding off the couch to stand barefoot on the wood floor. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at them. "Is it entertaining? Well, ha fucking ha. Get out." He pointed at the door. "Both of you."

At that point Mike's chuckle turned into a legitimate laugh.

"Get out!" Jesse yelled now, his voice strained.

Walt felt a pang of sympathy for the kid for a moment. He was obviously frustrated and confused by the events. Not to mention terrified of what it meant or its permanence. He was in a vulnerable state, and while he had invited Walt over in fear, Mike was an added factor. It couldn't be easy to hold his own in his current state with two men standing in front of him who he normally would hesitate to challenge on a normal day.

"Calm down, Jesse," Walt said gently. "No one is teasing you. This situation is just bizarre for all of us. That's all. None of us know how to react."

"No - it's mostly bizarre for me!" Jesse cried. "And now I want you both to leave." Jesse's voice, while adamant, shook slightly. "Just get the hell out."

"While I'd like to ask you how you would make me leave," Mike responded slowly with another chuckle. "I…" He trailed off as Jesse turned from them and irritably walked away, towards the kitchen. He disappeared around the corner.

"Look," Mike turned to Walt. "I get it, we wait. There's nothing else to do. But Walter… Just watch him."

"Thanks for the advice," Walt answered stiffly, "but I think we're fine."

"You're not fine," Mike answered calmly. "It is what it is. The kid though. He can be… reckless. Whatever you call it. Don't leave him alone."

Walt didn't miss the clear insinuation that Mike had some sort of charge over Jesse. Whether he truly cared or had some other agenda, Walt wasn't completely sure. Why a straightedge mercenary type like Mike would feel protective over Jesse never sat right with him. And he bristled at the fact Mike felt he needed to give him advice on the kid.

"If anyone is familiar with Jesse's behavior, I think it's me," Walt answered stiffly.

Mike nodded briefly. "That's fair," he conceded. "And your suggestion he stay with you. Do it. Kicking or screaming."

It was probably one of the few times they agreed on anything, Walt mused. He kept his face expressionless. "We'll let you know if anything changes." He hesitated and then stuck out his hand.

Mike took his hand and shook. With that he turned to leave.

Walt started towards the kitchen, hearing the front door open and shut. When he entered the room, he glanced around, even looked behind the island, and saw no one. "Jesse?" he called out.

He observed that the kitchen was a mess. There were more pizza boxes, dirty plates piled in the sink, empty cereal boxes. He walked over to pull open the refrigerator and shook his head at the contents. Ketchup, beer, a Chinese food container, and a carton of milk. He reached in to take the cap off the milk and before he could even bring it to his nose the sour stench met him and he noticed the consistency of the liquid.

Really, Jesse? he thought.

As he put the milk back, he heard the front door open again and then slam shut before the sound of some kind of commotion in the other room. Alarmed, he quickly pushed the refrigerator door closed and hurried back inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone who's left reviews. Feedback is welcomed. :)

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**Chapter 3**

Walt re-entered the living room to find Mike had returned to the house, now holding a squirming Jesse under his arm. Within seconds of Walt entering the room, Mike purposefully dropped Jesse and the kid hit the wood floor with a yelp.

"What's going on?" Walt demanded.

"Look who I found," Mike began dryly, looking up to view Walt with a scowl, "trying to drive his car."

Walt barely had time to react when he saw Mike toss something his way. He caught Jesse's keys as they flew towards him and let out a deep breath. Driving? He tried to process his thoughts as he looked over in time to see Jesse crawl to his feet and attempt to scramble away from Mike.

Mike quickly grabbed Jesse by the arm and held him in place. "Listen, Kid," he began, crouching down to get himself on Jesse's level. He yanked him closer to him. "Are you crazy or just stupid?"

Jesse leaned away from him, pulling at his arm, but Mike kept an iron grip.

"I'm going to guess just stupid," Mike continued. "Assuming you could actually drive the car, and that's a big assumption, you want to know what would've happened? If you didn't crash and kill yourself first, then you'd be picked up by the first cop you passed. You think that would've worked out well for you?"

"Let go," Jesse responded, continuing to try to pull away.

"Answer me. You think that would've worked out well? Huh? You think that would've been a good idea?"

"Let. Go." Jesse tone became more insistent.

"You're pushing all the wrong buttons right now, Kid," Mike persisted, voice growing stiffer. "I get it- you're frustrated. But let's stop being stupid."

"This is stupid," Jesse snapped. He pushed against Mike's arm. "Let go of me."

"You know me - I'm a traditional guy." Mike let go of Jesse's arm and grabbed him by the waist instead. He shook him slightly. "You keep pushing my buttons, and you're going to end up over my knee, you understand? And trust me when I say you don't want that. "

A look of surprise flashed across Jesse's face. Then it was replaced by contempt. "I'm not a child," he said, voice rising.

"Right now you are," Mike answered rigidly. "And that's how you're acting, so that's how I'm going to treat you. So it's your choice. Understand?"

Jesse glared down at the floor, setting his jaw and remaining silent.

Mike shook him again. "Understand?" he repeated. When Jesse begrudgingly nodded, Mike pushed him away with some force, and Jesse stumbled back, falling onto the floor. "Good. So shut up, and start listening."

Mike straightened and stood up to his full height. "I hope your friend Walter has more patience," he said with an edge to his tone. Jesse remained seated on the floor and glared at Mike as the man spoke. "I'm going to do you a favor and leave before I do something I'll regret..." He cleared his throat. "Walter, I'll leave him to you. I have handcuffs in my car if you think you might need them."

"No," Jesse objected, looking up in alarm from the floor.

"If you could be trusted," Mike responded irritably, "then I wouldn't consider offering." He raised his eyebrows at Walt. "I'm serious."

"Handcuffs aren't necessary," Walt responded, shaking his head.

"I think you're going to regret that decision," Mike responded. "Don't forget I offered." He shot Jesse another pointed look. "Call me when this ridiculous situation changes." He headed towards the door.

After Mike had slammed the door shut behind him, Walt looked at Jesse and sighed. "Jesse. Get up," he said.

Jesse didn't move and eyed Walt warily. He swallowed, hesitating slightly before speaking. "I think you should leave too."

"Jesse." Walt shook his head. "This isn't a discussion. Now get up."

"I don't wanna stay with you."

"You want to stay with Mike instead?" Walt answered, knowing the answer after the scene that had just played out in front of him. "Because you're sure as hell not staying alone."

Jesse shook his head. "No."

"That's what I thought. Get up."

"I don't need to be watched, Mr. White." His voice shook slightly.

"Apparently you do," Walt answered. "Trying to drive? Really, Jesse? Where exactly were you planning to go?"

"What do you care?" Jesse answered bitterly. "How did he know, anyway?"

"You have impeccable timing," Walt answered dryly.

"I only turned the car on."

"And could your feet even reach the pedals?"

Jesse set his jaw. He glared at Walt for a moment and then glanced towards the door. "No," he admitted.

"You're not even wearing pants," Walt responded with a sigh, shaking his head. Unlike Mike, he felt more exasperated than angry. Somehow he wasn't even surprised by Jesse's actions. "Think for a minute, Jesse. Do you ever think?"

Jesse remained silent. He glanced down at himself, at the oversized t-shirt, and after a moment, looked back up at Walt. "Yo, whatever, Mr. White. I'm over this. I want this to reverse."

"I brought you some clothes." Walt gestured to the bags he had dropped when he first entered the house. He wanted it to reverse too, but that was obviously out of their control. Instead he focused on what they could do. "Get changed and we'll go."

Jesse looked at him for a moment, almost hesitating. "I told you. I don't want to go."

Walt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Jesse, we can argue about this pointlessly or I can easily make you come with me," he said. He walked over to the two plastic bags on the ground and leaned down to pick them up. "Hopefully some of this fits you." He walked over to Jesse and dropped the bags next to him.

Jesse eyed the bags and stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest.

Walt watched him carefully. "Don't make me force you, Jesse."

Jesse sighed and Walt could tell that he was getting close to giving in, however reluctant. He felt relieved, not in the mood to argue or rationalize with him any more. The one benefit of the situation was that Jesse had little room for negotiation. It came down to the fact that he was physically unable to defy anybody and knew it. Walt hoped Jesse was already fully aware of that without needing any more threats.

"I… I didn't know exactly what size you are…" He watched Jesse start to look through the bag. "Just decide what you need," he said. "And then we'll go."

Jesse pulled out a red t-shirt and looked at it skeptically. Then he dug around in the bag again and pulled out a pair of jeans. "Yo, these clothes smell real musty."

"It's been in an attic for years, Jesse. We can do laundry later. The other bag…." Walt continued, "it has shoes, socks, underwear."

Jesse looked up at him with a frown.

"You know." Walt shrugged. "The types of things we didn't keep."

"I'm going upstairs," Jesse answered, getting up from the floor and clutching the two bags to his chest. "To change."

"Okay. Hurry up." Walt watched child Jesse head to the stairs. "Essentials only, Jesse. This is one, two days tops."

"Whatever," Jesse responded as he made his way up the stairs.

Two days tops? Did he really even believe the words that came out of his mouth? He wished he could affirm that this would only last two days.

Walt glanced at his watch. Four o'clock. He looked around the room, Jesse's home, and thought to himself next steps. What were they going to do if things didn't reverse by Wednesday? He wasn't going to bring Jesse to the lab; that he already knew. It would be too dangerous. The first issue was letting Gus know about the situation, but the second more glaring issue to him was allowing a six year old in the lab. That was simply a bad idea. The safety equipment and mask wouldn't fit him. He wouldn't be able to reach anything, yet would probably try, and Jesse was clumsy enough full grown, never mind with child's hands and coordination.

If things didn't reverse by then, they would have to simply create a cover story. He would have to cook alone. However, that meant leaving Jesse alone.

Or with Mike.

As much as it bothered Walt, twenty-something Jesse liked Mike, and enjoyed interacting with the man. He liked spending time with him, and getting the attention Mike provided. Child Jesse and Mike seemed to be a different dynamic. Child Jesse could offer Mike nothing but aggravation. Despite his threats, Mike would protect him, Walt knew that, but they would likely drive each other crazy.

The one glaringly obvious decision was that he couldn't leave Jesse alone like this. That he realized could not even be considered. Within seconds behind their backs, wanting to drive? Walt shook his head and realized he still had Jesse's keys in his pocket. He realized that hanging onto them would probably be the best idea.

Alone, Jesse was at risk to really hurt himself. Not to mention that anything he did in this state could translate into consequences in his adult state. And one thing Jesse never understood were consequences.

He couldn't say he was looking forward to hosting Jesse at his condo. Jesse had been there enough before, but forcing him to stay there was a different story. Jesse got bored easily, and bored Jesse was … difficult.

He waited a couple more minutes before walking over to the base of the stairs. How long did it take to put on a pair of pants and grab a couple things for the road? "Jesse!" he called up the stairs.

"Coming!" came the childish shout back.

Walt shook his head and glanced at his watch again. Ten minutes of time wasted.

He was just beginning to consider going upstairs when finally Jesse emerged and came back downstairs with a duffel bag that looked gigantic slung over his thin shoulders. The clothes fit him, at least, though still slightly big on him. The jeans seemed to hang low and loose.

"Do I really need to go with you, Mr. White?" Jesse began, shifting the weight of the bag on his shoulder uncomfortably. "I'm fine here."

Walt walked over and took the bag from him. "You already know the answer to that question."

"Can I at least bring the PlayStation?"

Walt eyed the gaming equipment on the floor by the TV warily. As he opened his mouth to say no, he caught the hopeful look on Jesse's face and realized that the mindless games would probably be a decent way to occupy Jesse. Despite considering the fac he would probably have to sacrifice all control of the television in exchange for less whining, he reluctantly nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Bring the PlayStation."


	4. Chapter 4

"This isn't the way to your condo."

Walt wearily eyed Jesse in the rear view mirror from the driver's seat of his Pontiac Aztec and sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Despite knowing better, he'd been hoping for a quiet ride back to the condo with just one quick detour… He started to realize that neither 'quiet' nor 'quick' would be possible. He also started to wonder whether he should have given Jesse a choice about the detour before simply heading that direction.

"Mr. White."

Walt didn't answer. He considered changing direction and simply heading to the condo to avoid another fight. After all, just being able to pull away from the curb of Jesse's house had turned into a struggle. That was mostly his fault for suddenly recalling and voicing that legally a six year old should not ride in the front passenger seat. Telling Jesse that he had to sit in the back was immediately met with whining and stubborn refusal. Fortunately after only a few wasted minutes of arguing and a series of empty threats, Jesse eventually accepted that the car was going nowhere until he sat in the back and acquiesced.

The more he thought about it, Walt was also pretty sure that a child Jesse's current age wasn't even supposed to be in a moving car without a car seat… He couldn't remember if it was based on age or weight. But either way, Jesse was small. Walt decided not to bother mentioning it, knowing Jesse would simply get more upset, and there was nothing they could do about it anyway.

Though as he now glanced periodically at Jesse in the backseat, he observed how poorly the seatbelt he had insisted he wear actually fit him. The main chest strap of it was already pushed behind him. Laws had changed since Walt. Jr. was this age, and Holly was still at the earliest stages… Walt didn't know much, but if anything, laws about child safety had gotten stricter…

"Yo, are you listening? This isn't the way," Jesse interrupted Walt's thoughts with the repeated statement, voice insistent. This time the sentence was clearly a complaint, or an accusation, knowing Walt was keeping something from him.

"We're stopping somewhere first." Walt realized his tone was involuntarily curt, and he could also feel his patience was waning. While it was obviously Jesse inside of this child's body, he was also starting to realize there was a bit of six-year old in Jesse's personality as well. The whining, especially. Walt knew it was mostly Jesse's chagrin over his current state but at times it seemed like he was intentionally being difficult. Walt was pushing himself stay even-tempered, but he was growing tired too.

Jesse was shifting in the back seat now to better see out the window. "So then where are we going?"

Walt glanced in the mirror again to see that Jesse had actually unbuckled the ill-fitting seatbelt and taken it off completely. He now leaned up against the car door, on his knees to see out the window.

"Sit down, Jesse," Walt began stiffly. "The last thing I need is to get a ticket for you in my car."

"Yo, ticket for what? I'm not sitting in the front, so chill," Jesse responded irritably. He pressed his nose against the window.

"You're not restrained and you're supposed to be."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means sit," Walt answered tersely. "Now."

"And wait, I know this road… If you're taking me to Saul, then-"

"Then what?" Walt cut him off. While his initial reaction when Mike suggested contacting Saul was admittedly skepticism, he also acknowledged that he had zero concrete facts about this kind of situation, and any additional details, even from Saul, could potentially be useful.

"Why?" Jesse asked.

"Why not?" Walt looked at him again in the mirror and gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. "For God's sake, Jesse, stop whining and will you sit down?"

Jesse finally seemed to sense Walt's impatience and settled back in his seat with reluctant obedience. "You said it yourself, Mr. White," he answered, voice small but stiff. "For bail bonds, legal representation, and fucking time travel, right?" He shook his head. "It's bullshit. Listen, if we go there, he's gonna make fun of me just like Mike did and-"

"No one's making fun of you. He might even know something," Walt answered, annoyance briefly lifting at Jesse directly quoting something he'd said to him earlier, even if it had been a rebuke. At least this was proof he listened sometimes.

"You didn't seem to think so before."

"I didn't," Walt admitted. "But Saul has a lot of… interesting clients," he continued, briefly pausing at the stop sign in front of him. "He might have dealt with this before." He shrugged. "And we're literally minutes away."

Walt doubted that Saul had ever seen something like this before. If he himself hadn't seen or heard of anything like this in his career of science, he found it difficult to believe that a scumbag lawyer could offer much. Though being without any other alternatives, it wasn't a bad idea to leave no stones unturned.

Worse case scenario, Saul would offer nothing. And he would probably also laugh at the situation.

Unfortunately, Walt had already parked outside of Saul's strip mall office when he admitted to himself that the worse case scenario was also the most likely.

As if fate had decided to throw them at least one grace, it was one of the few times that Saul's waiting room was rather empty, and they walked right into his office.

Saul was on the phone sitting behind his desk when they entered, Walt leading the way with Jesse trailing behind him. He waved them in with a quick gesture of his hand as he wrapped up his phone call.

"Joe, I know," he said into the phone, rolling his eyes. "Look, this can wait. And I'll… Look I have clients here…. And-" He paused, listening. "Okay. Good. Tomorrow then."

Saul hung up the phone and pushed back his chair to stand and face Walt and Jesse. "Well, holy shit." A smile appeared on Saul's face and he shook his head, eyes on Jesse. "So Mike wasn't lying after all..."

Jesse expression darkened.

"He already called you?" Walt asked, surprised. He walked over to take a seat on the couch.

"Yes, he did," Saul acknowledged, briefly adjusting the purple hankerchief peaking out of the pocket of his suit jacket. "I had to check my calendar to make sure it wasn't April first. I really thought the old man was just pulling my chain. I mean… Come on. This?" He smirked again at Jesse. Jesse remained standing, a few feet away from Walt. "Not that I've ever known that man to crack a smile, never mind make a joke."

Jesse narrowed his eyes as Saul walked closer to him.

"I mean, wow, right? Look at you!" Saul exclaimed, incredulous. "So God damn small. Is this Alice in Wonderland or something? Did you fall through the rabbit hole?" He laughed and shook his head. "If only the cartel knew that a kindergartner was cooking meth better than them, am I right?"

Walt cleared his throat to speak, but before he could get the words out, Jesse acted first, moving forward and landing a direct kick to Saul's shin. The man cried out with a curse, bowing over in pain, as Jesse quickly distanced himself to the other side of the coffee table.

"Jesse!" Walt berated. He met Jesse's eye, but Jesse glared at him with an incensed blue stare, accusing him. Yes, Walt thought to himself, glaring back. I brought you here, and I knew this would probably happen.

Saul was still rubbing at his shin with a scowl on his face. He finally stood straighter, pushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "Thanks for the bruise, Kid," he said coarsely. "I see the innocent exterior is just a ruse. You're still just a little shit, huh?"

"Look, bitch – If you can't help, then just say so!" Jesse shot back indignantly.

"If I can't help?" Saul echoed. "Kid, I wish I could. But believe it or not this is one of the few things that I've never had come through my office before. And that's saying a lot considering what I've had walk through these doors."

Jesse's glare again turned to Walt.

"What else can I say?" Saul winced again and shifted his leg. "Mike said your plan was to give it a couple days? Well, do that, and then let's talk. And listen; maybe you actually discovered the fountain of youth in one of your drug-induced hazes. Now if you figure that out, give me a call."

Walt watched Jesse silently grow more agitated as Saul continued to be sarcastic and stood up from the couch. "Alright. Thanks, Saul. I think we're done here."

Saul gave Walt a small smile. "If I hear of anything or have any sorcerers walk through my door, I'll let you know." He glanced at Jesse and then back at Walt. "And… Good luck."

Once they were finally at his condo, Walt dropped Jesse's duffel bag beside the couch and acknowledged that the rest of the night, or day, or next two days, would not be easy. Jesse had been unusually quiet after leaving Saul's office, which he first found to be a relief, but now realized should be a worry.

So Saul didn't have any answers – that shouldn't have been a surprise. Though hindsight reminded Walt that he'd known that would be the case, and probably should have avoided the trip altogether…

Now Jesse seemed to be sulking by default, and Walt found himself already irritated.

"So the couch will be your bed," Walt began, keeping his voice as upbeat as he could, masking his frustration. Jesse had spent the night at the condo before, so he wasn't sure why he was explaining what Jesse already knew. He felt the need to fill the silence and try to put some sort of order around the situation.

"You know I have an actual bed at home," Jesse reminded.

"Yes, I do."

"And it's more comfortable than your couch."

"Your point?" Walt gave Jesse a questioning look, and Jesse responded with willful silence. Walt shrugged in response. "Tell me, Jesse. What would you be doing if you were home right now?"

"Do you ever really care what I do when I'm home?" Jesse answered with his typical tenacity. "Huh, Mr. White? So long as I show up to cook?"

"We're not cooking tomorrow."

"So you shouldn't care at all," Jesse muttered.

Walt tried not to get irritated while watching Jesse climb onto the couch, tucking his sneaker-clad feet under him as he settled. "You're making this harder than it has to be."

Jesse sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "Mr. White, I'm only here because I know you would have made me anyway. I don't want to be here."

"And? Are you just going to be difficult simply to be difficult?" Walt answered. "In case you didn't notice, I'm not exactly thrilled that you're here either."

Jesse's brow furrowed. "So you should have let me stay home."

"Whether you want to admit it or not, Jesse, you made it pretty clear that you can't be left alone."

"Don't forget that I'm the one that texted you."

"And what did you expect, Jesse? When you texted me?"

Jesse eyed him with a look that Walt could only identify as challenging. His young face was looking more and more exasperated. "Whatever, Mr. White. You have to sleep at some point."

Walt returned the look without blinking. "Are you implying that the handcuffs would have been a good idea?"

Jesse scowled, letting out a "hmph" of protest at the idea.

"It's not too late," Walt warned. Even knowing that Jesse was making threats out of frustration, he wasn't going to become too sympathetic.

"Just fuck off." Jesse rubbed his hands over his face, leaning back into the couch in pure exhaustion. "For five minutes, just fuck off."

Walt decided to move on. Backing Jesse into a corner wouldn't get him anywhere at the moment. "It's getting late. What do you want to eat?"

"Nothing." Jesse's voice was mumbled through the hands still over his face.

Walt sighed, eyeing Jesse with the end of his serenity. Jesse was still a kid at best in his real life. Now he was completely a child, and Walt wasn't sure what to do if this stretched into more than a day. Walt always had a sense of protectiveness over this idiot that didn't seem to know, or want, to take care of himself properly, but this was going to stretch limits.

"Listen," Walt began, moving towards the couch and settling himself on the coffee table in front of it. Jesse was turning himself towards the couch now, and Walt simply reached forward to take his legs and yank them towards him, shifting Jesse closer and facing him forward, probably rougher than he should have.

"Hey," Jesse objected, scowling.

Walt ignored the protest and took one of Jesse's ankles in his hand, grasping his sneaker in his other hand, pulling it off. Then he did the same to the next.

"I can do that," Jesse persisted, twisting his leg out of Walt's grip.

"You want to act like a baby, then congratulations," Walt answered sardonically. "Otherwise, work with me."

Jesse made a face but stayed silent.

"Let's try again. What do you want to eat?" Walt asked.

Jesse studied him, pausing for a moment. Then he slowly said, "I want pizza."

Walt suddenly remembered Skyler lecturing him about how to deal with children. 'Offer choice a or b', she stressed; 'never give an open question'. He now understood. "You realize I saw how many pizza boxes are at your apartment."

"I like pizza. You asked what I wanted."

Walt glanced at his watch and then back at Jesse. He let out a deep breath. "Fine."

Especially in recent months, Walt never slept well. His mind was filled with the 'what-if's' of his occupation among thoughts of his own mortality.

The sudden noise, a crash or bang, that night probably would have woken him regardless of the sleep stage he was in.


	5. Chapter 5

Especially in recent months, Walt never slept well. His mind was constantly filled with the 'what-if's' of his occupation among thoughts of his own mortality. The thoughts seemed to be particularly prevalent while he lay in bed alone.

While he hadn't been sleeping well, the sudden noise, a crash, that night probably would have woken him regardless of the sleep stage he was in.

The earlier part of the evening had been uneventful as television and pizza delivery provided a needed distraction. Despite mostly silence between them while they ate, Walt started to almost appreciate the presence of Jesse. Whether it was the food or just fatigue, Jesse had become increasingly complacent as the night went on, sitting quietly on the couch beside him as mutual company. Walt figured he was simply too tired to be an annoyance but either way felt relieved.

Walt already knew that when Jesse wasn't complaining or fighting with him about inane issues, or wasting their time, he could actually be pleasant. At the condo, he was typically alone with his thoughts. Despite the circumstances, this was at least a change of pace. Normally Jesse would fill their time together with random thoughts or questions, like he couldn't be left with silence. Small Jesse didn't say much after eating, and Walt didn't mind.

As the night grew later, Walt found himself yawning. He glanced over at Jesse a few times to find the kid's eyes starting to periodically close. A quick look at his watch reminded him that he was already up later than typical. He didn't know what time Jesse normally went to bed, but it was pretty obvious he was tired too. He left Jesse on the couch to find some extra blankets.

He returned and dropped a folded comforter and a pillow on the couch, listening deafly to an objection from a suddenly wide-awake Jesse that it was still 'early' and he 'wasn't tired'.

"Fine," Walt responded tiredly with a slight roll of his eyes. "Then stay up."

Walt left Jesse while he insisted on setting up the Playstation with the promise of keeping the volume muted, and turned himself in for bed, shutting his bedroom door behind him. For all he cared, the kid could play video games all night so long as it kept him quiet.

His first thoughts in bed were of the following day, and what they were supposed to do. He hoped that they would wake up to find Jesse back to normal, but he acknowledged there was just as much of a chance that there would be no change.

He was supposed to go to the carwash tomorrow as well... He now worried about the logistics. Leaving Jesse alone at the condo didn't seem like the greatest idea; however, bringing him to the carwash and having to fabricate some kind of background story to Skyler about why he suddenly had a six-year old child in tow was equally unappealing. Leaving him with Mike implied needing help from Mike, which was also something he wanted to avoid.

Maybe he wouldn't have to worry about it. Maybe Jesse would reverse…

Before he could ponder his options too much longer, he fell asleep.

Soon after what sleep masked as moments but very well could have been hours, he sat up in bed, startled at the abrupt sound from the other room. He blinked into the blank darkness, now hearing nothing, though the clamor of a moment ago still resounding in his ears.

Was it a dream? No, it was too real. His dreams weren't like this.

"What the hell…" he muttered, pushing back the heavy blankets on top of him. He fumbled awkwardly for his glasses on the nightstand next to the bed, finding them with a brush of his hand across the surface of the table. He put them on hastily and turned on the light beside him.

A quick glance at the digital alarm clock informed him that it was three-fifteen in the morning and he inwardly groaned, wishing he could simply go back to sleep. He considered it for a brief moment, and then instead pushed himself up out of bed to step into a pair of slippers.

He wished to find the lights off and Jesse peacefully sleeping on the couch, with the noise a figment of his imagination or from maybe even outside.

He left the bedroom to find that the lights were still on in the other room.

Jesse, what are you up to… he thought apprehensively.

From the doorway of his bedroom, his eyes first went to the couch and found it empty. The comforter he placed there earlier remained folded and untouched. He glanced at the TV and found it still on.

Dammit, Jesse, he thought. It's three-fifteen and you haven't even tried to go to sleep?

That was when he heard a small groan coming from the kitchen. He looked past the TV and headed into the kitchen almost reluctantly, his exhaustion fading, replaced by trepidation and unease.

He was stunned at first glance into the kitchen.

Jesse was on the floor, like he'd fallen – but from where? – and around him was a mess of broken bottles and fragments of glass. It must have just happened, as he was just moving, slowly sitting up.

"What the hell?" Walt began, suddenly fully awake. He observed Jesse was still dressed as he had been earlier.

Jesse sat up now, hunched over, and groaned again.

Walt was confused at first how this mess was even possible. He looked around the kitchen, trying to understand, and then saw the counter where earlier today sat empty bottles and glass for recycling. It was now empty aside from a few turned over remaining bottles. Why would Jesse be near that?

Suddenly Walt was irritated. His eyes took in the mess again. Three in the morning when the whole world was sleeping, and now he had to deal with this? Walt was already exhausted from the events of the day. How hard was it for Jesse to stay out of trouble for one night? How was this even possible?

"Jesse," he said, voice stiff. Did the kid not even notice he was standing there?

Jesse let out another small grunt as he moved a little and held his hands up in front of him. Walt now noticed blood. Jesse's face was scrunched up as though in pain. He didn't seem to notice he was bleeding, in fact he still barely seemed to notice Walt, as he slowly tried to get up.

"Jesse. What the hell did you do?" Walt persisted, tone annoyed, leaving the doorway of the kitchen to walk towards him. Glass crunched under his feet and he was thankful for the slippers he'd tiredly put on. How the hell was there so much glass?

Jesse looked up and noticed Walt now, seemingly for the first time, and then appeared to panic. "Hey, Mr. White. I…. uh... ," he began with a stutter. "Sorry." He crawled to his feet and then tried to move backwards. "Look, I…"

Walt took another step and reached for him while Jesse tried unsuccessfully and clumsily to step away.

Walt's hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him still, and he didn't miss the way Jesse flinched at the touch, as though expecting to be hit. "Stop it," he said, voice low. He took a deep breath. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"No," Jesse admitted. "I… I'm s-sorry," Jesse repeated, face contorting into a pained frown again.

Walt looked down around them again in disbelief at the mess. Then he focused back on Jesse. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It was an accident," Jesse objected.

Walt's patience thinned. "What kind of accident? Why the hell aren't you sleeping?" He took in a smear of blood on Jesse's shirt. "And do you even realize you're bleeding?"

Jesse looked down at his hands again, now seeing the blood. He looked down at the clutter around him. There were a couple handprints of blood on the floor as well. His brain seemed to process the situation and his expression changed, became more vulnerable. He let out a small whimper, and then suddenly seemed to crumple into a true six-year old.

"Hey. Calm down," Walt ordered as the tears began. He let out a frustrated sigh. Despite his anger, his heart suddenly sank. He hated crying, especially when Jesse cried in this pathetic, sorry, wounded animal kind of way. His impatience was twisted now with empathy as Jesse's shoulders shook, his head bowed down with his chin tucked tightly down against his chest.

"Stop," Walt insisted, hand still firmly on his shoulder. He shook him slightly.

He wonder whether Jesse knew that crying got him out of things; Walt felt annoyed with himself for feeling sympathetic as well as with Jesse for crying in the first place. The tears seemed genuine. He was hurt, or at least a little cut up, but he couldn't tell how much of the tears were for that versus Jesse being typically overly emotional.

Walt briefly wondered how Mike dealt with Jesse's emotions. Whether Jesse would dare cry in front of him. He realized the man would probably simply tell him to snap out of it or threaten to give him a real reason to cry. And it would probably work.

"Stop crying," Walt spoke evenly. Despite the aggravation he felt, he tried to keep his tone calm to pacify him. Jesse's face was now streaked with wet tears that continued to fall. As Jesse reached to rub his face, Walt caught his wrist. "Stop."

Jesse's tear-filled eyes glanced at him briefly in question as a few more large tears slid down his cheeks.

"Your hands," Walter explained. "I think there's glass." He shook his head. "Will you explain to me what the hell happened in here, Jesse?"

Jesse glanced at him again, a nervous, fleeting glance.

"What were you doing?" Walt continued. "How the hell did you make such a mess?"

Jesse shrugged, keeping his eyes low.

"Jesse." Walt said his name warningly. His hand tightened on his shoulder. "Tell me what the hell you were doing."

Jesse stayed still for a moment and then looked up at the ceiling briefly. Walt followed his line of sight and settled his gaze on the smoke detector.

He looked at Jesse pointedly and then gestured up at the small device. "That? That's what you were trying to get to?"

Jesse stared at the floor now. A few more tears slipped down his face and he sniffled, shrugging again.

"You're an idiot," Walt muttered abrasively. "Pathetic idiot." He noticed Jesse's nose was starting to run and sighed. He reached out and took him under his arms, picking him up forcibly. He expected Jesse to object or push against him, but beyond a slightly surprised sounding whimper, Jesse remained still.

With a clenched jaw, Walt carried him to the bathroom as Jesse continued sniffling. "You were going to smoke?"

"No," Jesse managed as they entered the bathroom, voice wavering.

"Don't lie to me," Walt snapped. He set Jesse down on the bathroom counter forcefully and Jesse flinched.

"But I wasn't," came the choked response.

Walt narrowed his eyes and reached for a facecloth. Turning on the faucet next to Jesse, he wet the small towel briefly before using it to wipe Jesse's face. He didn't care that Jesse winced as he swiped the wet fabric gruffly over his cheeks.

"Stop crying," he instructed again stiffly. "Enough is enough." He wiped the stray tears that continued to roll down his face in exasperation. "Are you crying because I'm angry or because you're hurt?"

Jesse lowered his chin to his chest and nodded.

"Which one is it?" Walt persisted. He paused. "Both?" As Jesse nodded again, he let out a deep breath. "Well, you're right about one thing. I am angry. Show me your hands."

Jesse obeyed, holding his hands out in front of him. "I said I'm sorry," he said again softly.

"You'll be sorry," Walt muttered under his breath. He took Jesse's right wrist and turned his hand over to reveal the bleeding palm. He still saw a few thin shards of glass embedded in the skin as he suspected and muttered a curse.

Jesse pulled his hand away defensively. "I can do it."

Walt took his wrist again, giving him a warning look, and looked again at his hand. "Can you?" he challenged bitterly. "Just stay still." With his free hand he reached towards the drawer under the counter. He pulled it open and glanced inside for what he needed. Tweezers.

Jesse tried to pull his hand away again, but Walt's grip remained tight on his wrist.

"Stop," Walt commanded.

Jesse started to squirm, face scrunching up again. "But you're gonna make it hurt on purpose," he objected shakily.

Walt met his eye and paused for a minute. "Jesse." He shook his head and softened his tone gently. "I'm not."

Jesse's expression clearly showed he didn't believe him. For a moment, Walt thought good, let this be part of the punishment. But at the same time, he knew he wouldn't hurt him on purpose. It would probably hurt, that probably couldn't be avoided, but he wasn't going to make it any more painful than it had to be.

Jesse looked like he might start to cry again, and Walt decided to be a little gentler for the moment, at least until he could get him cleaned up. "I admit that Skyler was always a little more skilled with the skinned knees and cuts and bruises," he began. "But I'm not going to make it hurt more than it has to." He studied Jesse's face. "But if you keep moving, then it's going to hurt. You have to stay still."

Jesse nodded, consenting, and despite pre-emptively grimacing, he let Walt pull his hand closer to him.

His palm was a mess of small, nearly invisible pieces of glass, and blood, and dirt. It wasn't that much glass, thankfully, and with tweezers Walt began to slowly try to clean him up. With each sliver he carefully extracts, Walt realizes there is another hand in the same condition.

"Three-thirty in the fucking morning," he muttered as he closed in on being nearly done with the first hand. Jesse remained quiet and relatively still, trembling occasionally but with an obvious attempt to dutifully keep still.

"Maybe you should stay with Mike," Walt continued, glancing at Jesse for reaction. Jesse eyes him suspiciously, as though trying to figure out whether he was being serious. "Would you do this in his house?"

Jesse stared back at him blankly and didn't answer.

"What were you going to smoke?" Walt continued, now focused on Jesse's other hand. There was much less glass in this one, but a couple shards look painfully deep.

Jesse hissed as Walt extracted one of those pieces.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Walt raised his eyes to look at him again. "Now answer me. What were you going to smoke?"

"Nothing."

"Then why were you trying to disable the smoke detector?"

Jesse paused. "I wasn't."

"You looked directly at it when I asked what you were doing," Walt reminded. "You're a terrible liar, Jesse." Walt moved Jesse's hand slightly, narrowing in what seemed to be the last piece of glass. "I might be exhausted, but I'm not stupid."

Jesse winced as Walt pulled out the last splinter of glass. "Are you done?"

"Almost." Walt turned to the cabinet on the wall and opened the door. He reached in for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide sitting on the first shelf. "Put your hands over the sink."

Jesse eyed the bottle warily. He opened his mouth briefly as though to object, but then shut his mouth and unquestioningly placed his hands next to him, over the sink. His face, still blotchy with tears, had a look of apprehension. He shrank back a little bit as Walt took the cap off the top of the bottle and held it over his hands.

"Ready?" Walt asked.

Jesse nodded, closing his eyes tightly.

Walt poured slowly and watched the liquid bubble up over Jesse's palms, turning white. Jesse started to fidget as it became uncomfortable and quickly let out a deep breath it seemed he'd been holding.

Walt found a small roll of gauze and after drying Jesse's hands, wrapped the gauze a couple times around each of his hands.

A minute later they were done.

"Cigarettes or weed, Jesse?" Walt asked.

Jesse didn't look at him, not responding for a moment. He studied his wrapped hands and slowly said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Walt took him by the chin, forcing his head up. "Look at me." He waited, silent until Jesse's red-rimmed blue eyes finally met his with unease. "It's nearly four in the morning." Walt's voice was low. "And I'm being as patient as possible, Jesse, but I'm really not in a good mood right now. Tell me what the hell you were going to smoke, or—"

"Nothing," Jesse lied, not breaking eye contact.

"Nothing?" Walt echoed. "That's bullshit and we both know it. I will strip search you if I have to, Jesse."

Jesse eyed him silently, as though challenging him.

Walt's hands went towards Jesse's waist, towards his pockets.

"Hey," Jesse objected, batting his hands away. His voice was high. "Fuck off, pervert. I told you! I don't have anything."

Walt grabbed both Jesse's wrists, and held him still for a minute. "Are we going through this song and dance again? You want to make this easy or difficult on yourself?"

Jesse's eyes narrowed. "Mr. White. Stop treating me like I'm a child."

"You're acting like a child," Walt shot back. "Stop wasting our time." He paused. "Think hard, Jesse. Am I going to find something in your pockets?"

Jesse swallowed. He fidgeted a little and then simply said, "Yes."

"And?"

"What do you want me to say?" Jesse rolled his eyes and looked away, past Walt at the wall. "You're gonna find it anyway."

"No smoking. How difficult is that rule?"

"Obviously it's pretty fucking difficult," Jesse answered irritably.

"Unbelievable…" Walt let go of his wrists and reached again for his pockets. This time Jesse didn't stop him.

In the right pocket he found a small plastic bag with three joints inside. In the right pocket he found simply a single cigarette.

He looked at Jesse pointedly, waiting for a reaction.

Jesse scowled. "What?" he began. He shrugged his shoulders wearily. "Go ahead, Mr. White. Yell at me. Hit me. I don't care. But I'm not apologizing."

Walt silently removed the joints from the plastic bag and took a step away, towards the toilet. Glancing at Jesse briefly, he dropped the weed and the lone cigarette in the toilet before flushing it.

Jesse's sullen expression simply looked angry now, though silent.

Walter gave him a long look. He studied his young face and contentious frown, traces of tears still visible on his cheeks. After thinking about how to handle him, and thinking about the time of day it was, Walt walked over to take him under his arms and pulled him off the counter, putting him on the floor. "I don't need to tell you that you're on thin ice, Jesse. My advice is not to say a single word to me. Go to bed," he said stiffly. "Tomorrow's a long day."


End file.
